


seize the fucking day

by alcyonenight, efthemia, obeama, seaaanemones, sopnu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Doomed Timelines, Explicit Language, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcyonenight/pseuds/alcyonenight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/efthemia/pseuds/efthemia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/obeama/pseuds/obeama, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaaanemones/pseuds/seaaanemones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopnu/pseuds/sopnu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Dave just gets lost in time. He forgets there are things to do, until the decision to go back and save the kids who fucked up months ago is one that’s sat for too long. If he can convince Rose, he can convince anyone.</p><p>The odd thing is that he could swear that they used to be <i>good</i> together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seize the fucking day

You spend four months doing fucking nothing with a girl that can do fucking anything.

Rose takes control of the little that is left of your session, and occasionally manages to find time to glance at you with accusing eyes. You sit your pretty ass down on LOHAC and watch her carefully fillet the game into pieces that are progressively smaller and smaller still. Sometimes you even manage to find time in your absolutely jampacked schedule to reflect on how useless you’ve become.

“Busy day today, Strider?” she asks.

Although neither of you has ever outright said it, LOLAR isn’t really a place where you go. It’s always been too much _hers,_ somehow- elegant, despite her having shattered most of its towers and spires to pieces. Now, mostly in ruins, it’s far less elegant and far more Rose.

She doesn’t look pleased to see you.

“You know it,” you say cheerfully.

She coughs. “Was there anything in particular you wanted? Or have you just come to inform me of some new development? There hasn’t been one. I would have noticed.”

“Yeah, nothing gets past you. You’ve given me the Seer spiel already, Lalonde.”

She smiles back at you, sharp and pointed. “If there’s nothing you want, I’m rather busy. If you could-”

“Course,” you say, and then you’re gone.

The odd thing is that you could swear that you and Rose used to be good together.

\---

Rose pokes and prods the game, tries to find edges to tear at, ways to break it to pieces on the off chance that time can reverse. A week goes by with no progress, but she tells Dave she doesn't mind so much- something so big wouldn't fall to merely a week, of course.

At the two week mark she tells him that she's almost on to something. (She's not.)

\---

You come up to her one day when she’s methodically exploding towers into shards of flying metal, causing the gears below to rumble and throw up sprays of molten lava. It’s not strategic like it used to be. It’s just entertainment now, albeit neat and careful like the cut of a scalpel. Thoughtless destruction never was her forte.

It takes a single blink - the up-down motion of her perfect pale eyelids - before she relaxes, almost grins at you, opens that sharp gentle steel silk mouth of hers. "Have you come to check up on me?" she asks. She forms the words as if they're foreign to her, a language she's forgotten how to speak. "Thank you for the gesture, Strider. I'm sure it was well intended."

"You're going to run out of towers soon," you say casually. "I hate to think what you'll move on to next."

"Oh, I can imagine," she says, stepping closer, placing the tip of her needle underneath your chin. She could skewer you with that thing, twist you and break you in so many ways. You can feel it against the hollow of your throat- you thought it would be warm, but it's cold; it burns in a dull, tiring way.

"Sure you can," you say easily.

"I've been told I have a very vivid imagination," Rose nods, cheerful and sanguine. "But there are plenty of towers left, so I won’t need to resort to anything more drastic just yet."

"Enough to occupy yourself?"

She smiles as if you've said something right. "Just so."

"Yeah," you say, king of eloquence, and swallow. The tip of the needle scratches your throat and for a moment you think it’s Rose, but no it’s you, you’re leaning forward. Fucking _shit._

You jump back. She just raises an eyebrow. “For goodness’ sake, Dave, grow a pair.”

\---

Every time you talk to her, you end up prattling on about John and Jade- remembering them the best you can. She says nothing, just stares at you, her expression guarded and her mouth pressed in a straight line. This unnerves you; in all the time you have known her, you have not yet witnessed Rose Lalonde without anything to say.  
She interrupts you, harsh and irritable. “Either do something about it, Strider, or stop your stupid whining. I may have to kill myself if I hear any more.”

“I could, you know,” you say. It sounds helpless in your head and comes out angry.

She stares at you. “Could what?”

You shake your head, take a step forward- then a step back, and shrug helplessly. Your arms are dead weight at your sides. “Everything changes when you change a timeline, that’s the thing, I don’t know if- but fucking hell, Lalonde, how can I _not?_ ”

Rose looks at you like you’re finally worth her attention- looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time in weeks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Yeah, okay, so what do you want me to do?” Your voice is rising. “I’m not gonna wait around on the off chance that you find something, Lalonde- John and Jade, they _died,_ you not get that or something? Do you think your life’s worth both of theirs?”

Rose looks like she’s about to flay you down to the bone. “I’m trying to save _you,_ not me-” and she’s yelling now too, quick and furious. “I _see_ things, you idiot, and it’s _too late_ for me now.”

The noise of LOHAC pounds in your ears, in counts of eight, one two three four and you just want it to _stop-_

“For fuck’s sake, Lalonde, they’re your best friends,” you manage, all the fight gone from your voice. “Jade and John, how can you not-”

“Jade and John,” she says stiffly, quietly. “I remember when you used to call me Rose.”

“If that’s all you care about after two and a half months we’re gonna be here a long time,” you say, and walk away.

She, of course, does not follow.

\---

Rose knows what’s going to happen, because in a very strange way there can be a hundred worlds with a hundred Roses, but there's some bizarre principle in the game of Conservation of Dave - there can only be one. Dave has to go.

This isn't wrong, she knows but won't say. This is something that is supposed to happen. Dave goes back and fixes the mistake (and the spare _dies_ ).

And she-

Would she live here alone forever? Would the universe close around her until all of it stops existing?

She tries not to think about it.

\---

Sometimes you distance yourself from LOHAC, steal away to the roof of your abandoned apartment, and put headphones over your ears to drown out the ticking. For a while, you are free from the pulsing enormity of every second you’re forced to spend on this goddamn planet in what has to be the worst of all timelines.

You become aware again, your face shrouded by a shadow for seven seconds, although Rose has probably been on the roof longer than that. You sit up, headphones removed, and look expectantly.

“Dave,” she says.

Nothing is said for thirteen seconds. You gesture to the ground next to you and she sits.

“Dave,” she tries again. Another bout of silence.

She fidgets. You’re both much better suited to online communication, where you can gather your thoughts and carefully choose which ones you want to portray. Rose, with her lengthy prose and carefully constructed sentences, has had a harder time adjusting.

She purses her lips and begins. “I understand you’re upset.” A pause. “I understand I’ve upset you,” she amends. “But the ramifications of what you’ve suggested are incredibly risky. Even if you go back, then what? You’ll be in a new timeline with an alpha Dave that isn’t you. Time travel is just a measured gamble to begin with. You can’t be willing to bet your own existence.”

You shrug. You try not to think about the dead Daves. Clearly, she’s put a hell of a lot more time into thinking about your fate than you have. At least someone has been applying major brainpower to your half-baked plan. It’s a while before she speaks again.

“And then what about me?” she says quietly, looking at the ground. “What if I stop existing- or worse, what if I continue to exist indefinitely? What if I’m stuck on this fucking planet all alone until… Well, I suspect I won’t even want to exist. Not without-” She trails off.

“Me?” you offer.

She inhales sharply and presses her palms to her eyes. “God _damn_ it.”

You sit on the asphalt atop a building in a sea of lava populated by crocodiles and enormous discs that audibly tick away the seconds of your miserable lives, yet Rose trying to force back tears may be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen. You place a tentative arm around her shoulders and pull her closer.

Then you smell it. “Rose Lalonde,” you say, “either you dunked your clothes in a fucking vat of alcohol or you have dipped into your mom’s liquor cabinets.”

She smiles weakly. “Would it be worth it to try to convince you I merely spilled some booze on my shoes?”

“Not even a little bit.”

She carefully removes a bottle from her sylladex and several others tumble onto your laps. With a devilish grin she uncaps a bottle of cool, clear liquid and holds it up to you, “I’m willing to share, if you would.”

Fuck it, you think, taking an ungraceful swig from the bottle. Half a mouthful makes it down your throat before you cough violently. “This tastes like ass,” you choke out, vodka spilling down your chin.

“I’m glad to know that you’re familiar with the taste of ass,” she says, sipping her own bottle delicately.

You try again and this time manage to swallow two mouthfuls before you cough. Rose giggles. In a haze, you realize the benefits of liquid courage as your face leans close to hers, seemingly of its own accord. You freeze with your lips just before hers for four immensely long seconds.

“For fuck’s sake,” she snaps. She closes the distance between you and presses her lips sloppily against yours. As first kisses go, it’s clumsier and it tastes considerably worse than you had imagined, but with Rose’s mouth crushed eagerly against yours, you can’t seem to find it within yourself to care. An immeasurable number of seconds later, your hands make their way to the back of her neck. Time is meaningless now; you have lost yourself in this girl.

\---

TG: hey rose  
TG: hows it hangin  
TG: please be exact in your description our survey team needs to know the precise goddamn state of things  
TT: Are you having problems with your eyesight?  
TT: Because you seem to have failed to notice that I am, in fact, sitting right next to you.  
TT: Hold on, what are you

tentacleTherapist [TT] is an idle chum!

TT: Swoon!  
TT: I'm incredibly impressed with your visual prowess. If we are ever in a situation where it is essential to our survival, I'm sure that you will rise to the occasion.   
TG: sadly my incredible skills are diminished  
TG: because i feel like my brain is gonna jump out of my skull and mosey off   
TT: Should I apologize?  
TT: I'm not actually sorry.   
TG: what you dont have a hangover   
TT: No, I do.  
TT: But I had a specific outcome in mind when I decided to get us both completely hammered.   
TG: hammered  
TG: hah your vocabs slipping rose  
TG: neener neener   
TT: If so, it's entirely your fault.  
TT: At least I attempt to engage myself intellectually.   
TG: i dont think wizard smut counts as intellectual  
TG: engaging maybe   
TT: Didn't I tell you that if you read my journals I would brutally murder you?  
TT: They will never find your body.   
TG: they wills  
TG: theyll mourn the loss of my sweet ass and go after you   
TT: Sweet as your ass is, I am confident that I would not get caught.   
TG: nope no way   
TT: I could dispose of your body in six minutes.   
TG: no way   
TT: Six.   
TG: speaking of short amounts of time  
TG: do you even have any idea how a dick works   
TT: What?   
TG: your sex scenes are awful  
TG: have you ever even watched porn   
TT: Excuse me, but I'm fairly sure that this isn't how courtship works.  
TT: Shouldn't you be expressing interest in my hobbies if you want to get to second base?   
TG: excuse you im pretty sure that i got to second base last night  
TG: between the jack daniels and the vodka   
TT: You'll never get any further.   
TG: shit  
TG: fine ill pay attention to your hobbies wizard porn is awesome how do you like me now   
TT: I'm not convinced, somehow.   
TG: hell yes i know what the solution is here  
TG: drop a beat for me rose   
TT: Wait. I take it back.   
TG: too late im already in the zone  
TG: so i guess my name is zazzerpan, he said it with a spark  
TG: he didnt know just what had hit him, but it met him with a snark  
TG: frigglish disregarded formalities, it's stuff he liked to shirk  
TG: he said sorry zazz you got no pizzaz, not enough for my kind of jazz  
TG: you're too much a romantic, your passion not frantic  
TG: it's too deep  
TG: let's just have it said that wizards who are frigglish would rather scream  
TG: or maybe cream than fill anime dreams, maybe i'll wean  
TG: the zazz into having more snazz  
TG: prepare him for what i like to call..........   
TT: .........  
TT: I'm not getting any younger.  
TT: However, I must admit I'm flattered by your fanfiction.  
TT: Consider your selection of words canon.  
TT: Does Frigglish, by any chance, call it "a dirty razz"?   
TG: no fair you read over my shoulder  
TG: or didnt you   
TT: What can I say? I have little control over curiosity in times like these, when all I have is you and your shitty possessions.   
TG: my possessions are so not shitty  
TG: okay well not all of them  
TG: some of them are less shitty than the others  
TG: are you even listening to me anymore   
TT: You do realize that all this will change, don't you?  
TT: Our relationship won't be the same in the new timeline. It may not even exist at all.   
TG: whoa that came out of nowhere   
TT: Just consider it.   
TG: well ok yeah timelines are unpredictable but  
TG: goddamnit rose were pretty awesome together i dont think thatll just go away   
TT: But you can't know, can you?   
TG: and you can   
TT: I have a feeling, that's all. But my hunches tend to be accurate.   
TG: okay you know what maybe its not this time maybe youre wrong  
TG: weve got to take the risk rose   
TT: Are you sure?   
TG: yeah fine im sure why not   
TT: Fine. Then go ahead.   
TG: what thats it   
TT: I trust you.   
TG: oh   
TT: Do you mind if I sleep now?   
TG: sure go ahead and  
TG: wow ok on my shoulder

tentacleTherapist [TT] is an idle chum!

TG: rose im really worried  
TG: i lo fuck like you a lot and i dont want you to stop existing you are the only reason for me to exist fuck lalonde  
rose  
TG: but we have to find a way to make this happen  
TG: because the universe  
TG: ha  
TG: literally the universe  
TG: is counting on us and me and im counting on you fuck that isnt relevant  
TG: hell no you are always relevant

\---

“Kiss goodbye?”

“I think not,” she says.

“Hold the fuck up. Why not?”

“It’s been done to death, Dave,” she explains patiently. “I want to be _interesting._ ”

He stares at her as if she’s Copernicus and has just informed him that the Earth does, in fact, go round the Sun. “Our last minutes in this timeline, and you care about _interesting?_ ”

“Well, true.” She sighs. “But it’s so cliched-”

“ _Rose-_ ”

Everything goes dark very suddenly.

LOHAC is very, very silent, and the absence of that noise presses on her eardrums. The gears and cogs are gone, and the soft hissing of the lava. She can’t hear Dave’s breathing. She can’t hear her heart beating. She tries to scream, but the sound is snatched from her throat and deadened and time takes that away too.

Dave’s face is pale, a light spot in all the blackness. He’s been leached of his color- his hair and skin are a faded white, eyes dim and monochrome. He tries to smile.

She moves her arm with some difficulty, forces it through the thick and viscous air. It’s cold, a slow burn like dry ice- her fingertips brush his, and she grits her teeth and _pulls_ the nothingness away.

His hand is warm, and she holds it as time rips apart.

\---

Rose wakes with four months of memories of a life she didn’t live.

Everything feels unfamilar- so immediate and definite. Her eyes strain to focus, and her lungs choke on the air that is so suddenly present.

She remembers Dave, then, and measures her breathing carefully.

She takes exactly enough time to figure out where he is- has to be- and she stumbles up and runs for the gate, tumbling through with something less than elegance. It doesn’t matter. She’s there.

Her feet are planted firmly on the ground again, and her knees give way rather ungracefully. She topples over and retches, fingernails scraping on the surface of the shiny metal gears. For a moment she thinks she sees stars, not light-spots but galaxies, and she reels dizzily.

Two people are standing and watching nearby. Well, one is floating. He is also orange. She feels a bit sicker than before.

She dusts herself off and walks over, carefully, casually. "Hello, Dave," she says.

Dave- no, Davesprite stays silent. The other Dave gives her a nod.

"Hey, Lalonde," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> writing: [efthemia](http://efthemia.tumblr.com/), [cloudling](http://cumulae.tumblr.com/), [psonu](http://psonu.tumblr.com/), [alcyonenight](http://somecrazygirl.tumblr.com/)
> 
> first illustration: lines by [psonu](http://psonu.tumblr.com/), coloring by [obeama](http://gikerot.tumblr.com/)
> 
> second illustration: [lovelytoken](http://lovelytoken.tumblr.com/)


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